


Problems

by autopsyblue



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, sleep paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:04:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6107357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autopsyblue/pseuds/autopsyblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk and Jake have problems but neither one seems to be able to figure out what they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problems

**Author's Note:**

> This came out a lot darker than I expected. Anyway, enjoy?

The worst part about the paralysis is that you don't know it's happening until he's hyperventilating and crying and bolting from you to the doorway, flinging himself away from you to hurt at the other end of the room, enveloped in panic. He doesn't close his eyes, irises illuminated neon orange when he turns his head just right and catches the little light that manages to make its way into your room.

Sometimes you can cox him with sweet words, begging with such a pathetic tone your heart aches for yourself, for him. "Please." "Hey, shhhh.” "It's okay." One arm extended, waiting in the air, fingers all pointed towards him.

Like a magnet.

Like a planet caught in orbit around a sun.

He collapses beside you, still wary. He lies complacent in your arms till the sun rises and never goes back to sleep.

 

"Love you."

He says it casually, leaning over to peck you on the cheek. He pretends not to notice you locking up and continues doing whatever it is he’s doing.

You breathe out.

 

He's screaming in his sleep, and when he screams it's loud, harsh, strident, and trails off into whimpers that make you ache like your heart’s been removed.

He doesn't fight your arms. He presses close and shakes and shakes and shakes like a leaf in a hurricane and you try to hold on, to ground him. Sometimes he wears himself out and falls asleep again in your arms, too often tear-stained, salt and soft breaths against your chest and it _hurts_ ,

 

He doesn't keep razors.

There's a fine white line on his neck that nearly blends in with his skin but when he gets tan and freckled and sunburnt it stands out a little more, and you find yourself covering it or purposely forgetting it exists and sometimes it makes you want to _scream_

But that would frighten him

 

You say you'll love him to the day you die and he asks you to please not say things like that.

"Things die. Everyone falls apart."

"No, Str– Dirk. Dirk. I'm not leaving you." You hold his face in your hands, rubbing circles onto his cheeks.

He goes pale and very quiet. "That's what you think now.”

And that's when you want to scream more than ever, because it's not, he's not, "What could be worse than this?"

Dirk looks at you like he's surprised, and then very sad. "That's what I mean."

"No, no, this is what I mean," you say and you climb inside his personal space, move closer and closer to his face, lean in like you've actually gone mad. "There is no worse and I want to stay."

He shakes his head and looks at you like he's asking you not to make him cry.

 

You don't know that you love him. You know that he knows he loves you and he's so. Every time he reaches out, opens up it's beautiful, it's like flowers blooming in fast forward, a movement graceful for its complexity, something you never knew could happen until you see it and it's wonderful

until he shuts it down and pulls away and all you're left with is aching down in your heart as if it were a part of your bones, a toxin seeping into your blood and then you're not anything

and love is supposed to be beautiful and wonderful and easy, and if it's not maybe it's still love but it isn't healthy, you shouldn't tell him because that's encouragement of something that shouldn't happen no matter what you feel.

Maybe that's it. Maybe that's your friction point, the place that every problem between you starts and festers and grows until you're drowning in it. He lives by his feelings, no matter how many times he attempts to validate them before they come out. Of course he thinks he's in love.

You live by actions. He doesn't act like he loves you.

Whatever that means.


End file.
